One Way
Looking for hay in a stack of needles
Standing on the edge of the abyss
as it falls into me
Kicking the dust that forms chiselled mountains
Reading the contents while the book is still written
Wind and rain laughing at our hubris
Clutching at the past
as now never seen cowers
in fear
As the future feast on seconds yet to happen
Want always yearning
and need so discerning
This carbon corpse
This empty shell
History lost in the time before
And self dies silently
its sweetness never tasted
Its greatness always harnessed
and yet we dream
Of something unknown
behind the final exit door.
Choosing the pain because relief
leaves us numb
and life that all succumb
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